Clean
by someonessweatheartmissing
Summary: Ryan wonders if he will ever feel clean again.


Ryan can't deal with mess anymore. He never really liked disorder, but now it seemed to mean something more, now stains make him panic. A stain means thick crimson blood trickling on to him from his dying brother's chest, the slight splash of vodka and tomato juice on the kitchen island, the souvenir of Kirsten's secret breakfast Bloody Marys. A stain means finger prints on a gun and false accusations. It means the world spiralling out of control all over again. Sometimes it seems that if he can keep everything neat and pristine then he can stop it all from falling apart. If he can keep it all in order then nothing can hurt him or threaten tear apart his carefully crafted sanity.

He first started the showering the morning that Sandy picked him up from juvie for the second time in his life. When the police arrived at Trey's apartment he had the gun in his hand and in Newport beach that mean he was guilty, just like everyone else in this town the police knew he was just the kid from Chino that a hippy tree hugger and Caleb Nichol's drunkard daughter took in. He would always be trash to them. He would always be dirty and tarnished and looked at like something they stepped in. He still had Trey's blood all over his shirt when they cuffed him. Marissa had screamed, Summer had cried, Seth had pleaded but all he'd been able to do was remember Luke's first words to him, running on repeat play through his head 'Welcome to The O.C., Bitch. This is how its done in Orange County'.

He couldn't really think of much that night he spent back in juvie, the night before the police decided that what happened to Trey was self defence. He was resigned. His whole life had been leading here, no matter what tricks the last few years played on him, he could never escape, it was his fate, fate that had always been grasping and clawing at his neck like Trey's big grubby hands in the seconds before the shot. He didn't sleep that night. He didn't grieve. He didn't think. He just existed coldly and without hope.

He was shocked when morning came and a guard opened the cell and told him that he was free to go. He followed mindlessly and collected his belongings. He felt numb, until he saw Sandy waiting for him. Sandy ran up to him and enveloped him in a warm fatherly embrace and whispered 'Trey died. I'm so sorry' into his hair. He felt his whole body brace. He felt disgusting, tainted, like everything that was wrong with him was rubbing off on Sandy, like he was soaked from head to toe in Trey's blood and it would infect anyone who touched him with venom and vitriol and the good old 'Atwood luck'. The mere thought made his stomach lurch and he broke away from Sandy and vomited violently onto the floor in front of him. Everything seemed to spin after that. He vaguely remembers Sandy cleaning him up and leading him out to the car, and the jagged angry cliffs of the California coast zooming past him as they drove home. When he arrived back at the Cohen's, he walked wordlessly out to the poolhouse, past Seth who had already hooked up the play station and into the bathroom. He took the longest shower of his life, trying as best as he could to get clean, rubbing his skin with a certain vehemence until it was red and sore., as though if he tried hard enough he could wash away his scars, inside and out. By the time he came out of the bathroom, Seth had gone and it had grown dark. The shower still didn't feel like it had worked. He still felt dirty and besmirched. Ever since he's started showering more, sometimes he thinks its 4 times a day, sometimes he doesn't bother to count. Sometime he wonders if he uses enough high end shower gel and designer shampoo he might emerge all shiny and new and thoroughly Newport. Sometimes it doesn't feel like it matters. Sometimes it feels like he'll never be clean ever again.

Kirsten's been home for a week and she's be watching her boys like a hawk, amazed to see them all existing in their own orbits. Sometimes she feels like a voyeur watching a road accident . One of the first things Kirsten noticed when she returned was how much more careful Ryan had become. Not emotionally, but physically. He holds all his glasses with two hands. He is the neatest cook. Ever since Ryan first came to live with them Kirsten's liked watching him, with the peaceful order he brings to each activity. She likes that he has a sturdy methodical air about him, in total contrast to the walking whirlwind that is Seth. She's thankful that they're not alike, that she would never find the mouldy remnants of a three week old sandwich in the poolhouse or an ever-growing collection of crusty coffee cups. But since she's been home he's seemed more extreme, somehow. There's been an agitation to his organisation. It was like he was afraid to make the slightest stain on anything, like he was afraid of leaving any evidence of his existence at all, like he wanted to move through the world as a dark unnoticed outline, the way shadows do.

She wants to break through his silence, to be his mother, for real this time. She knows she's made her mistakes. She's most ashamed of what she said at the intervention, but there are other things too, When she first started to love him, as a son, she saw him as her second chance. The child she got to replace the child she killed inside her all those years ago. But she wasn't there enough, as his second chance. His chance to have a real mom. She wants to sweep away her misdeeds and start with a clean slate. She wants to rewind to the morning Dawn left, the second she told Sandy and Seth 'Ryan's gonna stay with us now' and do it again, do it right this time.

But she knows she can't. Maybe she doesn't have that right. So she's biding her time now, making sure she's not being paranoid. It was a Friday night family dinner, a new initiative of Sandy's after the events of the summer. Sandy and Seth were bantering away like a comedy club act, quipping so fast that she wondered if she would ever learn to keep up with them. Seth began a mumbled retelling of some Summer based story that he'd already told to death.

'And Summer totally had a rage blackout and told Dean Hess that if he said anything about the shooting in front of class again she'd staple his danglies to the blackboard…' Seth spoke without drawing breath.

'Seth, don't say danglies!' Kirsten found herself reprimanding out of habit, but she wasn't looking at Seth. Instead she was watching Ryan opposite her. He seemed to be shifting about in his seat, cleaning his hands again and again with one of the little lemon scented wipes that always came with the Thai take out. He'd used it so many times, it seemed to be dry now, but he didn't seem to care. She reached out and touched his hand, stopping him in his tracks, He seemed to flinch away slightly.

'You ok sweetie ?' she asked.

'Er..yeah…I'm just not all that hungry I guess' he offered as he stood up and left to go to the poolhouse. Kirsten looks over at Sandy and they lock eyes and she recognises his concerned parent face. He's clearly noticed the change in Ryan too.

'And then she said she'd bitch slap the hell out of him so hard that he'd be in HOAG until he's collecting his social security' Seth was still trawling out his own personal monologue, the Summer Roberts show, knowing that he sounded stupid and that nobody was listening to him any more. Still, he didn't really know what else to do.

'I'll go' Kirsten offers and stands up to head out to the poolhouse She can hear the early rumbles of thunder and see the clouds gathering and wonders how much harder everything can get.

She knocks on the poolhouse door and she can hear the shower running.

She sits on Ryan's bed and waits, thinking of how much she'd quite like a big glass of merlot right about now and trying to run through little exercises in her head, counting down backwards from ten and willing the craving away.

When he first comes out she doesn't say anything. Unlike her husband and her son Kirsten knows the power of silence. She knows how to speak without words. She looks at him, her brow furrowed in a gesture of sympathy and worry. He can't quite hold her gaze. He knows the way he's been since Trey died isn't normal. At least he thinks it isn't. He doesn't really know anything any more. Ryan hopes that if he doesn't look at her she'll go away, or maybe he hopes that she'll stay forever. He can't decide. All summer long Sandy seems to have kept a poolhouse vigil, waiting for him to explode, or implode or something more drastic than this, at least that's the way it seems. He's surprised that she's here. Since Kirsten's been in rehab he's forgotten that she and Sandy aren't one entity, some sort of odd parenting tag team. He's forgotten that she always picks up on the smaller stuff, the stuff he thought he could hide from Sandy and Seth.

For the first time in his life silence makes Ryan uncomfortable. It makes him itch and long to not feel so poisonous for once. He sits down next to Kirsten on the bed, wishing he could get comfortable in his own skin. She still doesn't say anything. She puts her arm around him and it sort of makes him happy which he knows is wrong or upside down at least. He remembers when his Dad first got arrested back in Fresno and Dawn started drinking all day and the whiskey stains in the carpet made his whole life suddenly seem contaminated, like someone painted the world grey.

Kirsten pulls him into her chest and he can't seem to stop himself when the first tears fall, the only tears he's cried for Trey, and Theresa's baby, and Dawn and Chino and his Dad and the past. He knows the salty abrasive water's starting to leave a patch on her expensive sweater, and he wants to laugh at the aching irony. The fact that his old life is literally making its mark on the new. She whispers soothing things into his hair. She 'sshs' him, but its not the hard noise that Dawn used to make, the noise that meant 'Shut the fuck-up, NOW', its gentle and somehow caring he hopes.

'I know its not normal' he tells her.

'Oh, honey, its ok' Kirsten tells him, even though she knows it isn't. She's so glad that he's here now, crying on her chest. She was so scared that she'd alienated him forever, that one harsh outburst had washed away two years of love.

'How?' he asks.

'Well, we can sort things like this out' she offers feebly.

'With therapy' he dryly ascertains, sounding far from impressed.

'Yeah' she tries softly.

'Fucking A' he replies sardonically.

'Yeah, therapy kinda sucks' she replies, laughing for the first time since she's returned home.

'Kirsten, don't say sucks' he laughs too, wondering if this dangled carrot, this offered reprieve could really help him. Therapy is as much a part Newport as the pier or cotillion and he knows he doesn't fit that mould. But the offer comes from her and that's what seems to matter most.

'Ok, I'd expect that from Seth, not you' she jokes.

'Is it ok if I have a few minutes on my own?' he asks.

'Sure' she replies, kissing him on the forehead and standing up. She walks out of the poolhouse slowly and returns to the kitchen.

He sits and thinks for awhile, its freeing in a way. Since talking with Kirsten, or not talking with Kirsten he feels a little bit more like his brain's been switched on again. He still feels dirty and untouchable, but there's something new too, love maybe or hope or something he can't quite put a name to yet. He wonders if she's right about therapy, if it'll make him feel fresh or pure or something he's never felt, or maybe it'll just make him feel normal, like not everything is a struggle against the things inside him and the things he's done. He thinks back to Chino and wonders if anyone new has lived in his mom's old house. He wonders if they ever managed to get the stains out of the carpet or air out the sickly smell of tabacco, whiskey, marijuana and Dawn's cheap dime store perfume. He wonders if maybe they white washed it and made it a good place, respectable and filled with a family like Theresa's house next door. He wonders if anyone will ever live in Trey's old apartment again, if they'll manage to re-carpet and throw the blood stains away. He hope's so. He'd like that.

When she re-enters the big house, she can see that Sandy and Seth are at the counter, their backs turned to her talking. She can tell from the tone of their secret conference that they're discussing the way Ryan's been since the shooting. She gets the feeling that such pow wows have probably become the norm since she left, and wonders at the total ineptitude of men left to their own devices with their emotions.

Kirsten stands back for a moment and watches them.

'He just won't talk to me about it, and I don't know what to do' Sandy tells Seth, it sounds weird to her, to hear her son included in such an adult conversation. But then again, she knows a lots changed this year, they've all grown she supposes.

'I know, I mean, I know I'm not good with the whole not being self-absorbed thing or the big stuff, y'know, but I've sort of been following him around the house, checking up y'know. I mean I invented the stealth so I don't think he's noticed, but I've still been there y'know' Seth tried to explain to his father.

Sandy looked a little shocked at Seth.

'He talked a little, to me' Kirsten offered from behind them, suddenly breaking them apart, making quite clear that they hadn't noticed her return.

'Well that's something' Sandy sighs.

'I think he might agree to some therapy' she tells them. Sandy looks a little less worn down than before. The look on Seth's face reminds her of the morning she told them Ryan was staying, and she wonders if she can maybe have her clean slate after all.

'Well things are looking up already' Sandy smiles.

The door creaks and they all turn round to see Ryan entering.

'I'm sorry...about the freak out at dinner' he apologises awkwardly with his hands plunging into the pockets of his hoodie.

'Already forgotten' Sandy assures him, and Kirsten squeezes his shoulder.

'Kirsten suggested…some therapy. Maybe' he said sheepishly.

'Sounds good, dude, maybe you can meet your own Oliver, expect she'll be a she, and really hot, and blonde and as ample as Grandma Gabby' Seth grinned, making a gesture to symbolise huge boobs.

'Seth' Kirsten warns.

'Ok, maybe not' he mumbles.

Ryan smiled shyly.

'Ok, how about we head into the den and have just a quite family night?' Sandy offered.

'Sounds good' Ryan replied, a little bashfully.

'Great, I can make us all some lime Jell-O' Seth said triumphantly.

'Oh god son, please spare us, you really inherited your culinary skills from your mother' Sandy joked.

'Hey' Kirsten replied mock offended.

'Father you wound me' Seth made an exaggerated agonised face.

'C'mon den-ward bound.' Sandy shooed them playfully, and they complied.

'Fine' Seth joked 'No lime Jell-o for anyone'

As the entered the den they all noticed rain begin to patter against the windows, each quietly remembering the last time it rained in Newport, a night last February when the rain seemed to clean away mistakes and herald new changes.

'Holy pathetic fallacy, Batman' Seth proclaimed, and they all laughed feeling like they might become a family again someday.


End file.
